Seek
by BeginAgain46
Summary: It was about time he sought her out. CA


**Seek** by **saulalovin**  
A **Numb3rs** fan fiction

**Pairing:** Charlie Eppes and Amita Ramanujan  
**Summary:** It was about time he sought her out.  
**Disclaimer:** Numb3rs and its characters do not belong to me.  
**Spoilers:** None.  
**Author's Note:** Accompanying piece to Hide. I suggest you read both (in whatever order), but they can be read separately. Michelle, this is for you. Hee. And MissCongeniality - I am so touched! E-mail me. :)

Only the stream of moonlight pouring through the big windows lit the classroom, casting a white glow on everything. The room was quiet, with only the scratching of the chalk as it made contact with the chalkboard breaking the silence.

It was rather ethereal, but Charlie Eppes paid no attention to any of that. As far as he was concerned, it was only him and the chalkboard that existed.

He scribbled furiously, little flakes of chalk dust floating down to the floor, creating a thin layer of pale white powder. His eyes darted back and forth quickly, going over the formulas and equations. Moments later he picked up another chalkboard and propped it up against a stack of books in the corner and continued to write number after number and variable after variable on it without pausing.

His momentum was incredible, his train of thought unbreakable. There was no telling when he would stop, until he suddenly threw down the chalk (sending the three pieces it had broken into racing all over the wooden floor) and sank into a chair, his head in his hands.

It hadn't been a good day.

It had started out ordinarily. Don had asked for his help in catching a serial killer who had taken the lives of ten people over five weeks, a case that had left the LAPD stumped, with no suspects or evidence. He and Amita had worked out a formula that had pinpointed Union Station as the place where the serial killer would kill next, and he had then informed Don immediately.

However, there was a nagging feeling that wouldn't leave him, and after they went through everything again, he realized with a sinking feeling that they were wrong – it wasn't at Union Station that the killer would strike next, but at a residential area called Monterey Park.

He had frantically tried to get a hold of Don, but when he failed to do so, decided to call Don's partner, Terry. She had picked him up (he had adamantly refused to let Amita come along, for her own safety) and they had gone over to Monterey Park after deciding to just meet Don there.

He didn't remember much of what happened after they got there, just random flashes of emotion-filled instances.

He remembered the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he realized that it wasn't just _one_ guy, but around four of them. It wasn't the original serial killer he had found, but a bunch of copycats.

_That explained why I had originally made a mistake with the location_, his brain told him calmly, as if he weren't staring down four armed men at the same moment.

He remembered Terry, doing her best to talk the guys into surrendering – even though it was a futile attempt, rather like asking the dog to lay off the bone. He sensed the underlying note of fear in her voice, and knew that the four had noticed it too, judging by the way they had gleefully exchanged glances and confidently cocked their guns.

He remembered pain after his brain registered the gunshot as he knocked Terry to the ground and the bullet grazed his leg. He remembered her startled cry of hurt as another bullet connected solidly with her arm.

And then there was the unmistakable crimson of blood.

_So much blood_, he thought almost dully, as if he were in a trance.

The last thing he remembered was hearing the welcome wail of police sirens. After that, he passed out, and the next thing he knew, a doctor in the local hospital's emergency room was attending to him.

He hated hospitals. They reminded him of his mother.

Thankfully, he hadn't been asked to stay overnight, and after receiving instructions about bandaging his leg, he had brushed past the doctor and had nearly run into Amita outside.

The second she saw him, she had leapt up and was about to give him a hug before realizing what she was doing. Her arms dropped awkwardly at her sides. "Are you okay?"

His jaw set in a firm line, he hadn't answered and pushed past her – but not before seeing the extremely hurt expression on her face.

It was that image of intense hurt that stayed with him all night.

He didn't know why he had blown her off like that. She hadn't done anything to him – she was just being a friend with her concern like that, and he had precious few of those.

He had seen something else, though. Amidst the concern and worry, he had seen something he had never seen before. It had pushed him over the edge (like he wasn't that far gone already) because in spite of everything, he had still recognized what it was…because it was something eerily familiar, something that he felt deep down as well.

Running scared. That's what he had ended up doing. Running scared back into the classroom, back to trying to figure out problems that have never been solved before, like he always did when things were spiraling out of control. Running back to things he could possibly wrap his head around, if he mulled it over long enough.

He had done it when his mother had gotten sick, when he had first witnessed the death of one of the agents, and he was doing it again.

Slowly he unwrapped the bandage on his leg and examined the wound. It wasn't that deep, but there had been a lot of blood. He knew that he was lucky, because things could've easily been worse.

_We could've died today._

Without a second thought, he grabbed his jacket and headed out of the room.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Charlie." The expression on Amita's face was one of great surprise, but he didn't see any anger, which he took as a good sign.

"Can we…" His hands made a gesture mid-air, trying to make up for the fact that he had apparently forgotten how to speak coherently.

"Talk?" she asked, amusement tingeing her voice. "Yeah, okay." She shut her front door behind her and led him to the backyard, where she offered him a seat on a wooden bench before sitting down herself.

He was silent for a while, thinking over what it was he wanted to say. She sat next to him, a little hesitant, but otherwise patiently waited for him to speak.

"I'm sorry," he said at last. "I shouldn't have acted like that towards you today. It was…rude."

Amita gave him a tiny smile. "It's okay. How's your leg?"

"It's okay." _What do I say? I've never done this before!_

"I – " He swallowed hard. "_IthinkIlikeyou_," he blurted out quickly.

She looked at him, startled. "What?"

His palms were sweaty. "I think I like you. More than a friend. I mean, I like you as a friend, but I think I like you…_more_."

She swallowed a grin. This was too adorable for words. Maybe somewhat middle school, but it worked, strangely enough. "I like you too. More than a friend," she said.

He stared at her for a moment before breaking out into a smile. "…Really?"

"Really." She smiled back at him.

"So, uh… I think this is where we kiss," he said, his cheeks turning red.

"I think so too," she said, laughter in her voice.

"I've never done this before. I might be bad at it – " He was cut off by the sudden presence of her lips on his, and he responded naturally, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her closer and kissing her back.

"Yeah? Could've fooled me."

**THE END**


End file.
